Sometimes It’s the Little Things

Two traditions on New Years Eve… Watching the ball drop in Times Square in New York City and having a glass of champagne to bring in the new year.

So last night P and I went out with a big group of people to a casino for New Years. Before we left I wanted to buy a bottle of champagne in case we weren’t able to find any later in the evening, but with the chaos of organizing transportation for everyone… it didn’t happen. I wasn’t necessarily gung-ho with the casino idea at first, but once we got there we had a lot of fun– checking stuff out, doing a wee bit of gambling, dinner, watching the ball drop on giant screens in a big buzzing crowd.

Shortly after midnight I was trying to find a glass of champagne to complete the evening but had to leave the casino abruptly when I had to drive someone home (an hour drive away). I told P he could stay, he looked like he was enjoying himself, and there was no need for both of us to leave and cut the evening short. He protested that it was New Years and we should stick together, but I insisted– “stay, I’ll be up when you get home.”

I was pretty mad at the person I was driving back and the series of events that led to leaving the casino abruptly, and fumed the entire way home.

When I got home, I starting watching a movie while I waited for P to get back. He didn’t have a set of keys with him, so I had to open the door when he arrived. He was catching a ride with a few other people in the group. It was nearly four when he got home, and I was still very mad at the person I had to leave the party for earlier that evening. P called me on my cell phone and said he was downstairs, so I put on slippers to go open the door.

On the other side was P, standing in the snow with his arm extended holding a plastic grocery bag, “I’m sorry… I went to four places looking for champagne to bring you, but nothing was open. So instead I brought you a bottle of [my favorite flavor of soda]. Happy New Year.”

That little gesture helped to melt away a lot of my anger. P is not a very verbal guy– he doesn’t say, “I love you” very much with words. But he really shows that he cares with his actions which are very genuine and kind hearted. Sometimes it’s the little things that really make the difference… like looking for something to cheer me up at four o’clock in the morning on New Years.

3 responses to “Sometimes It’s the Little Things”

That is sweet. I was pretty impressed with my husband, as well. At about 11:45, he jumped up and ran out to his car. He’d bought a bottle of champagne a couple days before and almost forgot about it. He’s not drinking any alcohol at all right now because of medication he’s taking…so, I know it was just for me. He definitely scored some brownie points with that! You’re so right about actions being much more important than words!